


i wanna be there for you

by GhostNox181



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bullying, Kid!Lock, M/M, protective!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostNox181/pseuds/GhostNox181
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because John is his only friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i wanna be there for you

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt fill on tumblr as follows: Sherlock prompt: Kid!lock, where John and Sherlock are children in fourth grade and Sherlock has to deal with bullies, all because John is his only friend 
> 
> A bit more violent than I thought it would turn out to be, but nothing too drastic. I don't get too detailed, anyway.

John tried to ignore the way the room spun as he got out of bed. He tried to convince himself that if he went downstairs and ate some breakfast and splashed his face with cold water, he’d wake up a little bit more and he would stop seeing double. He tried to tell his sister that no, his face wasn’t flushed because he felt feverish; he was just hot from rushing around the house because he woke up late. And no, he wasn’t shaking because he was cold or feeling weak, he was just nervous for their upcoming field trip. It was overnight, and he was wary of going.

But he couldn’t convince his mother and John ended up shedding the shirt that was half on and the one sock he had managed to pull on his foot, and crawled back into bed, promptly passing out as his mother pressed a cold compress to his head. The last thing he remembered was whispering to his mother to make sure that she called his best friend to apologize, but he couldn’t be in school that day.

 

* * *

 

John really shouldn’t miss school days. He wanted to be a doctor more than anything, and being a doctor required lots of dedication to school work. He knew he was only nine years old, but his best friend barely cared about any sort of work and could skip an entire week and still be a month ahead of the lesson. So if John wanted to be a doctor, he really shouldn’t miss school days.

But more than just for his education, John shouldn’t leave his best friend alone. John had other friends, sure. There was Greg in the other class that he often talked to, and sometimes he would hang out with Sally. Molly and Sarah were really nice and he enjoyed talking with them. Mike was even a bit alright occasionally. But it was John’s best friend, the reason John went to school, that made him worry every time he had to stay home.

Because even though John had quite a few friends, and even though he tried very hard to prove everybody otherwise, he knew that he was Sherlock Holmes’ only friend. It was something nobody understood, but it was something John took very seriously. And that was why he tried very hard not to miss school.

 

* * *

 

“Ow! That hurts, John,” Sherlock whined, jerking his head out of John’s hand. It was a step up from slapping John’s hand away like he had two years ago when they first met, but it was still annoying when John was trying to apply cream to the black eye the Sherlock was not so gracefully sporting.

“Maybe if you sat still and stopped insisting on texting everyone on your contact list. Most of whom, mind you, never even gave you their phone number in the first place,” John chided, gripping Sherlock’s chin more firmly as he put the cream down and began to clean the cut above the same eye.

Once again, Sherlock attempted to pull his head from John’s grip, but John, having always been a bit stockier and stronger, glared fiercely and held, and Sherlock huffed dramatically and crossed his arms but stopped trying to resist. Nodding in approval, John put a band aid over the cut above Sherlock’s eye and began gently wiping the blood that had dribbled from the cut in Sherlock’s lip with a wet cloth, hesitating each time the other boy winced.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” John murmured as he checked to make sure Sherlock’s nose wasn’t broken, being very careful as he cleaned away the blood and placed the proper bandage across its bridge to prevent it from moving too much.

Sherlock averted his eyes from where he had been watching John’s face steadily, a habit John had long gotten used to but found that Sherlock did not do for many others. He began anxiously tapping his fingers on his knee despite the fact that John had splinted two fingers on his left hand.

“It was nothing.”

John smiled sadly at the hint of hurt that lined the dark haired boy’s voice. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, John knew Sherlock had gone to school yesterday in fear. Everyone knew that John was Sherlock’s only friend. Everyone, even the teachers. Even Sherlock’s older brother Mycroft, who sometimes visited from the seventh grade. They all knew, and they all made fun of him for it.

Sherlock was small, skinny, and pale. He was unusually intelligent and he always scowled at everything. When he smiled, if he smiled, it was at something that normal nine year olds would not find entertaining, or even rarer, at John, which only further sparked the taunts. He had a way of getting under people’s skin and he just didn’t care what people thought about him. Because, as Sherlock would often tell them, he had John. And they only wished they could be like John.

The teasing rarely occurred to Sherlock’s face. Often it happened in whispers behind his back or in cruel notes left in his bag or on his desk where nobody in specific could be blamed. Things would go missing from his backpack or his lunch, when he brought one, and if they were found they were torn to pieces, written on, destroyed completely.

To say Sherlock was bullied was an understatement. But it never, ever happened to his face. Because whether or not people wanted to admit it or even believe it, Sherlock was John’s best friend, and Sherlock trusted John, and nobody, _nobody_ could hurt Sherlock when John was around.

And Sherlock, even though he would put on his scowl and glare at everyone, feared when he had to go to school without John. Because those were the days when the real bullies came out.

The bullies like Anderson and Irene Adler. But even those two Sherlock could handle, so long as he pretended he couldn’t hear them. Their words could get really violent, but he had a whole mental list of phrases John had said to him, and expressions John had graced him with, that he could easily ignore the things they said to him.

Jim and Sebastian, however, were a lot more physical.

Jim never actually did anything. He only taunted and teased and poked and prodded, but his words were always the sharpest and his jabs always hit home. Sebastian was like his hit man. Jim would verbally and emotionally bruise Sherlock, and with each bruise Jim gave him, Sebastian gave him a physical one to match.

Sherlock shouldn’t have felt special. Sebastian beat up anyone and anything. He had anger problems. But Jim had a liking for taunting Sherlock, and the only one that Jim was even remotely afraid of was John, because John was immune to Jim’s words. For that reason and that reason only, it seemed, whenever John was gone for the day, Sherlock dreaded having to attend class alone because Jim would be there, and he would have Sebastian, and there would be nobody to stop the bullying.

And Sherlock hated it. He hated the black eye and the bloody nose and the way his skin was so pale the bruises stood out like disfigured tattoos. He hated that he couldn’t land a punch on Sebastian without spraining two fingers. He hated how easily he bled and how defiantly he pushed them until he was almost asking to be hit.

He hated being found by John, and seeing the concern flash through his eyes before he started taking care of Sherlock, without asking, without needing to know, without being told. He hated having someone who cared for him, because he hated trusting someone.

He hated knowing that there was no word for how much he needed John.

“Thank you,” Sherlock murmured, fidgeting in his seat as John puts away the first aid kit. He meant it, and he’s never really had a time to say it before. But he meant it. He was grateful to John for everything, and he didn’t think John would ever know.

John looked up, startled. Sherlock stared just beyond him, waiting anxiously for the blond to say something, anything. Suddenly, the blond grinned, reaching over to ruffle the smaller boy’s hair. Sherlock sat there, stunned for a moment, before looking up at the smiling John.

“Friends forever, right?”

Slowly, Sherlock found himself giving the other boy a shy, tiny smile. “Yeah.”

And really, Sherlock could put up with any amount of bullying, so long as he had John there to patch him up after. 


End file.
